


Say Something

by hey-cas (kendra)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:11:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendra/pseuds/hey-cas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He finds Gavin under an oak tree.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Something

**Author's Note:**

> Sad. Sad sad sad. I wrote zombiefic; it’s that level of sad.
> 
> Inspired by [lauren’s](http://weiweipon.tumblr.com) sad mavins, i decided to write this really quickly while listening to this [song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2U0Ivkn2Ds) over and over again. these are the [last](http://25.media.tumblr.com/c19c085c82616014b5ee0d7217882e86/tumblr_mslye8cfEp1rbh50ho5_500.png) [ two](http://25.media.tumblr.com/cf53dc404b4ee19b1dd5ec537f0f3c17/tumblr_mslye8cfEp1rbh50ho6_1280.png) panels that inspired it, honestly. please check out the links; they’re kinda a big deal.

Michael leans back into the airplane’s uncomfortable seat. His face is blank and emotionless; to other’s he probably just looks another frustrated flyer. But he’s not. He’s numb. There’s no other word for it. None. He closes his eyes and Gavin’s last words to him echo in his head. 

_“I can’t do this with you anymore, Michael. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m…I’m giving up on you.”_

Gavin had ended the Skype call before Michael had a chance to respond. Ever since that moment – almost three months ago – Michael had been living in a daze, going through the motions but never really feeling anything. And it didn’t help that Gavin returned to England at the time. Well, indefinitely now. 

So here Michael sits on an 18 hours trans-Atlantic flight, off to England to… he doesn’t know what for. Maybe answers. Maybe a reason. For something.

(He knows in his soul that he’s never going to get any so this trip may be in vain, but Geoff insisted that it would be best for him. That it would help his wounds heal, like it had for everyone else. Michael didn’t believe him but he somehow found himself booking a flight ten minutes later.) 

Michael clenches his fists as the plane hits a bought of turbulence and bitterly thinks to himself, _“I did tell him I would follow him where ever he went.”_

Once it’s over, Michael turns away from his seat partner – a jaded business man from the way his tie is loose around his neck - and presses his head to the cool window, trying to blink back tears. 

The business man doesn’t say a word when Michael begins to sob twenty minutes later.

\--

They land safe and sound, although Michael’s eyes are still puffy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here as he carries his carry-on bag with him, the only thing he brought with him on this stupid trip. He isn’t planning on being here too long. In fact, his return flight is tomorrow morning at seven AM. He’s here for one thing and one thing only: an answer. Or to say his peace. Or something. He’s here to say…something. He just doesn’t know what yet. 

He stands statue still while he waits for his cab to pick him up. The weather in England is cold and frigid, almost mimicking how he feels on the inside. His breath comes out in little white puffs and Michael imagines that it’s little pieces of his broken soul leaving his body. 

His numbness is increasing as his fingers lose their feeling on the handle. 

He glances down and see his knuckles threatening to break skin. He stares at them, imagining the bones breaking the skin and smearing his colorless flesh dark red but his cab pulls up and beeps its horn, tearing Michael from his fantasies. All breath leaves his body at the sight of the car but he inhales deeply, trying to overcome his sudden fear of automobiles, by reminding himself that they don’t crash every day. 

(But, some deep part of him knows that he’s just lying to himself. Cars get in crashes every single day and why should this day be any different. _That_ day wasn’t any different and look what _STOP!_ ) 

He tells the cabbie the address and, silently, the driver pulls away from the airport, taking him to the last house Michael knew that Gavin was living in. Paying his driver, he gets out and approaches the house. He doesn’t get a chance to knock because, as soon as he hits the first step, the door is opening and a shaken, tear stained Mrs. Free is standing there. Her arms are crossed and Michael feels terrible for imposing. 

She looks him up and down once before returning into the house. There was no given invitation so Michael stands still on the landing. Gavin’s mother quickly returns and hands him a sheet a paper. 

“That’s the address,” she whispers, crossing her arms again when Michael takes the paper. “Tell him I love him.” 

Michael doesn’t say anything. He nods his thanks and turns away, deciding the walk would help him gather his thoughts and maybe shake some of the numbness clinging to his limbs. 

(He’s wrong; it doesn’t. It gets worse every step he takes. Ever footfall is an ordeal and he makes the journey with blurry vision.)

\--

He finds Gavin under an oak tree. The land is quiet and serene and Michael instantly understands why Gavin would like it here. Although loud and obnoxious most of the time, whenever they were together, Gavin liked to sit silently, holding hands and whispering sweet nothings to Michael, when he felt inclined to. 

Michael knows that they will never have that again and it brings a new wave of tears to his eyes.

“Hey, Gavin.”

Michael pauses, waiting for a ‘hi, Michael!’. But it doesn’t come. It’ll never come again and Michael swallows thickly, blinking slowly, letting the first tear drop out. 

Gavin doesn’t say a word. 

“I’m so mad at you,” Michael starts, not know what he’s doing. What he’s saying. It’s like he’s been in a trance since he was told. “You never even gave me a chance to reply.” 

Michael doesn’t get one either. He continues. 

“You never gave me a chance to fix what was wrong with us. You just… ended it. You just gave up on me. I had never given up on you… why would you do that to me?” 

Gavin remains silent. 

“I would have changed. For you. I would have been the one, if you wanted me to be. But I guess that’s the point. You didn’t want me to be the one.” 

Michael drops the overnight bag to the soggy ground. It makes a wet sound as it lands on the grass; it recently rained. He crosses his arms in the same way Gavin’s mother had; he realizes now that she was protecting herself. Consoling herself in the same way he is at this very moment. 

“I don’t even know what I came here for,” he snarls, more to himself than to Gavin. “I don’t know if I’m here for an answer or for a reason or to ‘help myself heal’ as Geoff puts it. But here I am, following you across the fucking world. I will always follow you; I will always want you.” 

Gavin doesn’t say a word as Michael sobs, “But I guess you didn’t want me.” 

Michael’s numbness falls away like a crumbling tower and he’s suddenly overcome with emotions. Emotions that he has bottled up for months – bottled up since the moment he’d been told. His anger comes back tenfold and he starts to scream at Gavin, who remains utterly silent. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you! I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you! I’m sorry that you didn’t love me in the way that I loved you! I’m sorry that I never told you what I felt about you! I’m sorry that you won’t just fucking _say something!!_ ”

Gavin remains speechless. Michael begins to sob in earnest now. His legs crumple under him and he slowly sinks to the grass. It’s earthy and woodsy, the same way that Gavin always seemed to smell like and he begins to cry more as his sinuses fill with the scent. He bows his head and curls in on himself in front of Gavin, holding himself the same way Gavin used to. If he squeezes his eyes tight enough, he can swear that he can feel Gavin’s arms – thin but solid – around him and hear his quiet intakes of breath as he smiles into Michael’s curls. 

“I was still learning to love, you know,” Michael whispers once he finds his voice. “I was trying to learn how to love you because you’re the only one that I’ve ever loved this deeply and now I’m fucking sitting here saying goodbye.” 

A bird cries in the distance, almost like it’s feeling Michael’s pain. The sound causes a hitch in Michael’s throat and he lets out a helpless little sound. Gavin doesn’t say anything and it makes Michael’s heart ache. 

“Please, just say something,” Michael whispers, crawling towards Gavin, his hands and knees getting caked in mud. It begins to drizzle lightly, a simple mist that causes Michael’s shirt to stick to his exposed back. He’s freezing but he can’t feel it over the ice in his heart. “Gav, please. Say something.” 

Gavin doesn’t, no matter how hard Michael begs. Michael reaches forward and touches Gavin, lightly, before fully breaking down. 

“Say something or I’ll give up on you!” he shouts, bargaining with Gavin, hoping that the threat will inspire the other man to say something. Say anything. Even if it’s just one of his stupid made up words. Just. _Something._

Michael stokes his fingers across Gavin; he’s cold just like Michael’s body is. Just like the ground under him, around him. Michael closes his hand into a fist and punches Gavin, hard, just once before his sobs over take him again. 

“Say something; I’m giving up on you!” Michael cries. Gavin doesn’t reply, doesn’t even acknowledge Michael. 

_**“SAY SOMETHING!”**_ Michael screams on the top of his lungs, the sentence ending with a broken sob. The flock of sympathizing birds flutter away at the sudden noise but Michael doesn’t care. He’s staring at Gavin through blurred eyes. He splays his fingers out over Gavin and presses in, looking for something and not finding it. Never finding it. Will never find it again. “Please Gavin. I need you. I need you so much. I’ve been lost without you. I swore I would follow you anywhere – why did you go and find the one place that I can’t? That’s not fair!” He shouts before beginning again in a broken whisper, “None of this is fair.” 

Michael rises to his knees and leans forward until his overheated forehead meets cool marble. “I love you, Gavin Free. But I’m giving up on you.” 

Gavin, now nothing more than a tombstone under an oak tree, stays silent.

**Author's Note:**

> i enjoy this song a lot more when i consider the person the singer is singing about is dead. i don't know why; i think it makes the song more powerful? i don't. and i'm sorry.


End file.
